


Wished On The Morning Star

by Cerusee



Series: have you been half asleep, and have you heard voices? [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Aphasia, Bruce is literally living in dreamland and he’s fine with that, Catatonia, Dick’s being an awesome big brother, Gen, Homelessness, I told you that scene was foreshadowing, Muteness, Steph learns to chop an onion, almost no one is crying okay, everything is coming up Stephanie, food insecurity, i mean comparatively, you will note how NOT sad this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 01:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15853200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerusee/pseuds/Cerusee
Summary: The pile of blankets stirred at the sound of Steph’s voice, and the person—a boy—no, not a boy, a teenager, but not a very big one—sat up and looked vaguely in her direction.  More past her, than at her, but she could see his face clearly enough.Steph froze in shock.  “Oh my god,” she whispered.It wasn’t possible.  But she’d spent enough time looking at pictures of him, from his file, in Alfred’s photo albums, from the framed portrait on the wall...sheknewthat face.





	Wished On The Morning Star

“I saw her again,” Steph said, slightly breathless from the unsuccessful pursuit.

“ _Location?”_

“Coming out of Amusement Mile. I tried to track her, but she’s _fast_.”

Oracle sighed. “ _Thanks_. _Keep trying, Spoiler.”_

“Will do.” Stephanie said. “But I’m gonna call it a night for now, Oracle.”

 _“Roger. Get some rest, hon,”_ Oracle said, and closed the line.

Stephanie stretched her arms over her head, then slumped over her bike. Hmm. Home? Or the Manor?

Home was... _home_. Steph _had_ to go back from time to time; Crystal worked night shifts most of the time, and spent most of her off hours as high off her as as she could manage, but she was still there. Steph had to be home often enough not to make Crystal skittish, or she risked jeopardizing what was turning into a very comfortable arrangement.

(The day Steph had gone to Batman and told him she’d figured out his identity—well, he hadn’t seemed _surprised_ , exactly, but hadn’t he shown her his face, knowing what a famous face it was? and she didn’t know if that was what he’d intended, or—

Anyway, that had been the day he took her upstairs for the first time, openly enjoying how her eyes popped from the sheer opulence of her surroundings.

And the day that she’d come over, after school, to work on a case with Dick, and, as she was getting ready to leave, sighed about the prospect of going home to a frozen pizza and an empty house—that was the the day Bruce ushered Steph into the room one door down from Jason’s and told Steph that it was _hers_ , now, to use whenever she wanted.

That was also the day a slightly appalled Alfred took it upon himself to teach Stephanie how to cook. He’d hauled her into the kitchen with him to help him prepare dinner that very evening—some sort of curried lamb stew with chickpeas and yogurt—and by the end of the night, Steph knew how to chop an onion.)

The Manor meant a _very_ comfortable bed, but also either a very long bus ride to school the next morning, or Steph begging a ride off Alfred or Dick. Which she still felt self-conscious about doing.

But the Manor really did have a better bed.

***

Nightwing prodded her, as she blinked back to awareness.

“Get off me!” 

“Time to get up,” Dick said. “It’s ten already.”

Steph bolted upright. “ _OH MY GOD I’M LATE”_ she screeched, and tumbled out of bed. She was stumbling past Dick in the direction of the bathroom when he gently shoved her.

“It’s Saturday, Rosebud.”

(“Rosebud?” Steph said, the first time Dick had ever called her that. Bruce didn’t move from where he was bent over a table, studying building plans, half of an Italian sub in his hand—Steph had stopped at a deli on her way over—but his mouth did twitch.

“The most famous _spoiler_ of all time!” Dick said, cheerfully.

“Jesus H. Frog, please, don’t let that stick,” Steph prayed to the bats roosting in the recesses of the Cave.

It stuck.)

Steph half collapsed over her dresser. “I sleep here so this _doesn’t_ happen.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I haven’t slept in 34 hours?”

“No,” Steph said. “That sounds unhealthy. I think you should stop doing it. All three of you.”

“Yeah, probably,” Dick said, with the breezy conviction of a man who intended to keep on doing it. 

“Get out of my room,” Steph said, shooing him towards the door. “I need to shower.”

Saturday morning meant Steph should put in an appearance at home, before Crystal woke up; if her schedule hadn’t changed, she had Saturday night off. But there was time for breakfast at the Manor, at least. 

By the time Stephanie got downstairs, Dick was draining a mug of coffee, and pulling flour out of a cupboard.

“Crepes?” he asked.

“Sure, why not.” Steph went to rifle through the refrigerator, looking for fillings. Thin sliced ham, gouda, asparagus—hmm, sounded good; sounded Alfred.

“I heard you saw your ghost again last night,” Dick said, whisking milk and eggs into flour.

“Uh-huh,” Steph said, grating cheese. “She’s real, Dick, I swear.”

Dick made a face.

“You think I’m making this up?”

 

“I know you’re not making anything up,” Dick said. “But right now she’s kind of like Bigfoot. More myth than man.”

“Woman,” Steph corrected. “She’s definitely a she.”

“Have you ever gotten a really good look at her?”

Steph shrugged. “I don’t think I could pick her out of a lineup if she was just standing there. It’s the way she _moves_ that’s so distinctive.”

“Any pattern on her locations?”

“Park Row and the Bowery. And now Amusement Mile.”

“So she’s probably based on the north side of town,” Dick mused.

“Yeah,” Steph said, sticking a pan of asparagus spears into the toaster oven. “It’s not super high priority; she doesn’t seem to be hurting anybody. Or at least not hurting anybody _we_ wouldn’t hurt, you know? She’s going after muggers and rapists.”

“Still...unknown player in town. Bruce does not like.”

“And she’s _good_ , Dick.”

“How good?”

“Better than you,” Steph said, bluntly. “Superhumanly good. Maybe Deathstroke good.”

Dick raised his eyebrows. “You’ve never gone up against Deathstroke.”

“I sure hope not; I’d be paste on the wall in thirty seconds.” Steph’s hand-to-hand skills had improved by leaps and bounds since she started training with Batman and Nightwing, but she had no illusions about her skill levels in comparison to someone like Slade Wilson. “But I’ve seen footage.”

“You think she’s a meta?” Dick cursed, and scraped the first crepe out of the pan before pouring another drizzle of batter in. “Why is it that no matter how many times I make these, the first crepe always comes out crap?” he asked, rhetorically.

“Maybe,” Steph said, snatching the pallid, limp crepe before Dick could toss it. It didn’t look like much, but it would still taste okay. “And you don’t let the pan get hot enough, is why.”

“Hmm,” Dick said. “And if there’s one thing Bruce likes even less than an unknown player in Gotham, it’s an unknown _metahuman_ in Gotham.”

“Yup,” Steph said, munching on the rescued crepe. “That’s why we’re trying to find her.”

***

Back again. He was still there; always there. He looked past her. Didn’t see. Never saw.

There was food in the corner, today. She shoved it down her throat as fast as she could. There had been food; there might not be food.

She curled up next to him, feeling his warmth.

He made a noise; the kind of noise that everything shaped like her made.

Except her. She didn’t make those noises.

She shoved him, and he snorted, and then he was quiet.

***

There was a click, as Batman joined the open line. He must’ve just gotten back from the Watchtower.

“Welcome back, boss,” Steph said. “How was space?”

 _“Large_ ,” Batman rumbled.

 _“Space,”_ Dick said, _“is big.”_

Steph chimed in, “You may think it’s a long way down to the chemist—“

 _“Did you have to get her started?”_ Oracle said.

 _“How vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big—”_ Dick continued.

“ _But that’s just peanuts to space,”_ Oracle finished. “ _Shut up and focus, all of you. I just spotted Spoiler’s ghost in the Bowery.”_

 _“_ I’m in the neighborhood,” Steph said, dropping all fun. “Got an address?”

“ _Sending.”_

Steph decided to go in quiet. She left the bike a block away from the building Oracle was sending her to—the muffler was good, but not that good—and slipped inside.

It was a warehouse, dark, silent, and empty. The floor, anyway. Stephanie looked up. _There_. There was a metal grating staircase leading up to the next floor, or she could grapple her way up. Either way, it was going to be noisy.

She opted for the grapple. Which turned out to be a mistake. She was just clambering onto the walkway when someone kicked her solidly in the chest, and she slipped and fell back off the walkway, barely managing to grab her line on her way over.

“I come in peace!” she hollered. _What to do, what to do, what the fuck to do?_ She could climb up the line, but what if ascending was just going to get her booted off again?

She dangled there for a good thirty seconds or so; she thought she saw a flash of a face over the edge, but it vanished, and whoever assaulted her made no attempt to dislodge her grapple. Dropping was not an option. Dropping meant _splat_. Broken everything was the good outcome, in that scenario.

Eventually, she decided that the only way up was up.

“I’m climbing up,” Steph called up. “Be warned. Steer clear.”

She climbed the line, and pulled herself onto the walkway. She expected to be alone, for her assailant to have fled, but—

There was a girl, _the_ girl, Steph thought, crouched warily at the far end of the walkway. At the sight of Steph, she slowly stood, until she was mirroring Steph’s stance.

“Hiya,” Steph said. She relaxed herself, deliberately, trying to be unthreatening as she could.

The girl made a little noise that could have been a grunt.

“I’m Spoiler,” she said. “Nice to finally meet you.”

The girl said nothing.

Steph touched her hand over her heart. “Spoiler.”

The girl didn’t move.

Steph pointed a finger at the girl, raising her eyebrows (she suddenly appreciated the costume redesign that left only the bottom half of her face covered; the idea had been to improve her peripheral vision, but right now it meant she could make eye contact without removing her entire mask). Still, the girl didn’t react.

“Ooooookay,” Steph said. “Not a big talker, huh?” She touched her comm. “I have eyes on her. I think it’s her, anyway. I’d say she’s maybe my age—” Steph studied the girl closely, and was studied back in return. “—chin-length black hair, brown eyes, Asian or maybe mixed Asian and Caucasian. Approximately 5’5”.”

 _“Has she engaged?”_ Batman asked.

“She sorta kicked me off a walkway, but when I got back up, she didn’t make a move. I think I might just have startled her. It’s hard to tell, though, because she hasn’t said a word.”

 _“Deaf? Mute? Or just not talkative?”_ Oracle asked.

“How should I know?” 

At this point in time, they mainly just wanted to talk to her, find out what her deal was, but that was going to be difficult if she didn’t talk. Steph tried a few signs, and got blank incomprehension in return. “Welp, she didn’t respond to my crappy ASL at all,” Steph said. She stripped off her gauntlets and tucked them under her arm, then put her fingers to her mouth and let out a sudden, piercing whistle.

The girl flinched and frowned at Stephanie.

“Seems like she can hear, at least. But I don’t think she understands anything I’m saying.”

 _“Huh,”_ Oracle said. _“Anybody have any suggestions?”_

Just then, the girl’s stomach let out a large growl. Steph couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I might have an idea.” She fumbled in her belt, pulling out a granola bar (chocolate with peanuts and almonds) from her stash of patrol snacks. From the look on the girl’s face, she recognized it as food, and she made an abortive movement towards Steph. Steph open the plastic wrapper, and took a small bite, chewed and swallowed. Then she extended it towards the girl.

The girl snatched it, ripping off the wrapper, and devoured the rest in two very messy, open-mouthed bites. Steph watched with absolute fascination.

Steph pulled out another granola bar, and handed it to her. The girl opened it just as quickly, but only ate half the bar this time, tucking the remainder away in its wrapper somewhere that Steph couldn’t see. Saving it for later?

“She’s hungry,” Steph said. “Her clothes are dirty and worn, and frankly, she doesn’t smell very good. I think she might be homeless.”

 _“A homeless, non-verbal, would-be vigilante,”_ Batman said, thoughtfully. _“Interesting.”_

 _“Any chance you can convince her to come with you?”_ Dick asked.

“Maybe,” Steph said. She sat down on the walkway, cross legged . The girl did the same. Steph pulled a tangerine out of her belt and set it on the grating. The girl’s eyes lingered on it, but she made no move towards it. Steph pointed at it, and then held one finger up. Then she pulled out her remaining snacks, and piled them in front of her. She pointed at at the pile, and held up six fingers. (What? She was a growing girl who burned a lot of calories, okay.) As she picked everything up and packed it away, the girl made a soft sound of distress, only the second noise she’d made the whole time. Now, Steph pointed at herself, and held up all ten fingers, opening and closing her hands several times.

Steph thought she could see comprehension flickering in the girl’s eyes—Steph had food. Lots and lots of food. Steph pointed at the girl, then back at herself, and made a beckoning gesture. The girl cocked her head, and then nodded slightly.

Steph tossed her the tangerine, and the girl smiled.

As they stood up, Steph started to turn towards the staircase leading to the ground floor, but the girl grabbed Steph’s upper arm, tugging her in the opposite direction.

“I _thought_ I convinced her to come with me, but she’s trying to lead me somewhere,” Steph said into the comm.

 _“Be careful,”_ Batman said, a hint of anxiety creeping into his voice. _“Nightwing, can you…”_

 _“I’m all the way over in Otisberg,”_ Nightwing said, with a twinge of frustration. _“I was already en route, but it’s gonna take awhile.”_

 _“Spoiler, does she seem dangerous?”_ Oracle asked.

“Well, objectively, yeah, she’s hella dangerous,” Steph said. “I’ve _seen_ her fight. But she hasn’t made a hostile move except for kicking me off the walkway, and I may have won her friendship with the gift of Nature Valley Sweet  & Salty Nut. I don’t think she’s interested in hurting me. Batman?”

 _“Go, but keep your eyes open,”_ he said, reluctantly.

 _“And your comm on,”_ Oracle added.

“Got it,” Steph said, and when the girl tugged again, this time, she followed.

The girl led her to what Steph presumed was the warehouse office, pushing past a door half off its hinges—the wood around the handle was splintered, and Steph had a notion that someone had kicked this door open at some point. The interior was mostly spartan, except for a pile of blankets in the corner.

Not empty, though; there was a person-shaped lump tangled up in those blankets.

“So this is what you wanted me to see?” Steph asked the girl, not expecting an answer. “You have a friend?”

The pile of blankets stirred at the sound of Steph’s voice, and the person—a boy—no, not a boy, a teenager, but not a very big one—sat up and looked vaguely in her direction. More past her, than at her, but she could see his face clearly enough.

Steph froze in shock. “Oh my god,” she whispered.

It wasn’t possible. But she’d spent enough time looking at pictures of him, from his file, in Alfred’s photo albums, from the framed portrait on the wall...she _knew_ that face.

_“Spoiler? Your heart rate just spiked. What’s going on?”_

Steph muted her comm. “ _Jason?_ ” she said. “Jason Todd?”

The boy looked at her more directly now, but didn’t say anything, merely blinked sleepily at her.

“How is this...why wouldn’t you...” Man, she was getting tired of asking questions without answers. “God, do you have any idea how much Bruce _misses_ you?”

The boy visibly twitched at the word _Bruce_.

 _“Spoiler, respond,”_ Oracle said sharply. Steph ignored her.

“You _are_ Jason, aren’t you. You were _Robin._ Weren’t you.”

The boy twitched again, and Stephanie remembered the first time Bruce had ever talked about Jason. _He loved being Robin. But being Robin killed him._

“I don’t know what the hell is going on here,” Steph muttered. “But I am not letting you out of my sight until I do.”

 _“Spoiler!”_ Oracle said, and it abruptly dawned on Steph that Oracle was scared for her. Steph hastily thumbed her comm back on.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “I’m fine, no one’s in any danger. But I think…” She swallowed, heavily. “I think I’d better wait until Nightwing gets here, after all.”

***

Shortly after Spoiler’s mysterious pronouncement, an alert popped up in a corner of the screen—Spoiler was sending an image. One popped up: a slender Asian girl with messy hair, in unkempt clothes. Spoiler’s ghost; she matched the figure Babs had seen darting into the warehouse. Babs tossed it into her facial recognition program. It felt like a long shot, but it was worth the processing power to try.

Then a second image came in, and a line of text from Spoiler: _don’t tell b yet._

Babs audibly gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.

It couldn’t be.

On autopilot, she plugged the photo in along with that of the ghost. Because what else was she going to do?

The computer pinged almost instantly with the second image. 100% match, with images from her own private database as well as with public records—newspaper pictures from society event coverage years in the past.

Babs opened a private channel to Spoiler. “What,” she said. “The _hell_.”

 _“I don’t know,”_ Spoiler said, her voice shaking slightly. _“He was just…here. I tried talking to him, and he’s just as non-verbal as she is. I’m not just imagining this, am I?”_

“Facial recognition software says it’s him,” Babs said, still in shock. “It can’t be, but…it really does look like him.”

Another photo popped up—no, this was a video. Babs watched in open fascination as Spoiler’s ghost knelt next to the impossibility sitting on the floor, peeling what looked like a piece of fruit, and pressing half of it into the boy’s hands. She crammed her own half into her mouth all at once, eating it messily. He leaned against her shoulder and peeled off segment by segment, eating more slowly than her.

 _He trusts her_ , Babs thought absently.

“Hey kids, say hi for the camera,” Spoiler’s voice said, in the video. Both boy and girl looked over at her, but said nothing.

What the hell. What the actual hell.

***

 _“Nightwing,”_ Oracle said, on a private line. It was hard to tell with the voice modulator, but she sounded disconcerted to Dick. _“I wanted to give you a heads-up...I don’t want to prejudice your judgment; I need your unbiased take on this. But this...situation that Spoiler stumbled onto—it might be kind of a shock. So, just—brace yourself.”_

“Ohhhhkay,” he said. _Taking a page from Bruce’s book, huh?_

On the main line, Bruce said, dryly, _“I can’t help but notice the suspicious absence of chatter.”_

 _“We’re...handling the situation, B,”_ Babs said. _“Spoiler has her hands full. Nightwing will be there soon enough.”_

 _“Hnh,”_ Bruce said.

Dick parked his bike outside the address Babs had given him, and ventured inside. 

_“Upstairs,”_ Babs said, distractedly.

“Yeah, got it, thanks,” he said. Up the stairs, following the small sounds of human movement, and—“holy crap!” he yelped.

That couldn’t possibly be _Jason_ sitting on the floor, next to Stephanie, who’d given up on her mask and hood, and a dark-haired girl who had to be Spoiler’s ghost.

Stephanie and the ghost both turned to look up at him, caught in what appeared to be a game of rock-paper-scissors.

Jason grumbled, and grabbed at the ghost’s hand.

“B,” Dick breathed. “I don’t think you’re going to believe this.”

***

Bruce had fully intended to leave the Cave and join Spoiler and Nightwing in the Bowery warehouse, but both they and Oracle opined that it would make more sense to come back to the Cave instead, presumably with Spoiler’s ghost in tow. Had it been Stephanie alone, Bruce would have overruled her—Stephanie didn’t always take threats seriously enough—but Bruce trusted both Dick and Babs’ judgement completely, so he was content to abide by it, in this matter.

When they finally returned, it was not on the bikes they’d gone out with, but in the Batmobile that Nightwing had requested Alfred send. Stephanie slipped out first, followed by Dick, and together, they reached into the car to coax out the girl, who he easily recognized from Stephanie’s description of her.

And then they reached back in again, and a fourth figure appeared.

Bruce stared, frozen in shock, and something in his head murmured _again?_ Had he been exposed to another hallucinogen without recognizing it? That sort of thing happened in space sometimes, even if the Watchtower medbay had given him a clean bill of health before he’d returned to the Cave.

The hallucinatory Jason looked up and saw him; eyes widening, he stumbled towards Bruce and then ran, throwing himself into Bruce’s arms with an inarticulate cry.

“I don’t actually mind seeing you like this,” Bruce whispered to dream Jason, crushing him firmly against his chest, tucking Jason’s head under his chin. “But it hurts so damn much when I wake up and you’re gone again.”

“Whoa,” Stephanie said in a shaky voice. “That’s the most active he’s been since I laid eyes on him. I guess he recognizes him?”

“He didn’t recognize _me_ ,” Dick said, a little petulantly.

“He only met you twice, right? But he lived here for three years,” Stephanie reasoned. “It makes sense. I bet he recognizes Alfred, too.”

“And who is it that you’re wagering would know me, Spoiler?” Alfred said, stepping off the Cave elevator.

“Uh, well,” Stephanie said. “We found someone along with that girl I spotted.”

“This is an unusually detailed hallucination,” Bruce remarked, still holding onto dream Jason. “I’m going to have to get Clark to run another blood sample. Maybe an MRI, too.”

“No wonder he’s taking this so calmly,” Stephanie muttered to Dick.

“Bruce,” Dick said gently. “You’re _not_ hallucinating. That’s really Jason. Steph, Babs and I all recognized him as soon as we saw him. Steph and Babs even checked him him against his medical records, for scars. It’s him.”

Maybe it was some kind of VR simulation, or a telepathic attack designed to keep him acquiescent. Perhaps he was still _in_ space.

“What,” Alfred said sharply, and strode up to Bruce and Jason, tugging at Jason’s head until he could see his face. “Oh good Lord,” he whispered. “This can’t be real.”

 _It’s not_ , Bruce thought, holding his son against his chest, feeling his warmth, smelling his hair—actually, dream Jason could use a bath. _But if you don’t mind, I’m trying to enjoy this_.

Jason blinked several times, as if he was having trouble focusing on Alfred’s face. It was strange that he was so quiet; the Jason who Bruce dreamed of was usually the chatterbox he’d been when he was alive. But then he made a noise, a frustrated noise, and he silently mouthed a name. _Alf._

“Jason, lad—” Alfred choked. “What on earth happened? How is this possible?”

Jason tried again, this time actually managing to voice the syllable. “ _Alf_.”

“Hey, he talked!” Stephanie said in surprise.

“He hasn’t talked before?” Alfred said anxiously, taking his eyes off Jason for a moment to look at Stephanie and Dick.

“Silent as the—” Dick cut himself off. “Uh, no. Not so far.”

“We...were thinking it could be brain damage,” Steph said in a subdued tone of voice. “Because. You know.”

“Or it could be some kind of trauma-induced catatonia,” Dick put in. “Whatever’s going on, I think it’s a given that he’s been through a lot.”

“I wish you’d all shut up,” Bruce said, irritably. “You’re ruining a perfectly good fantasy.”

“ _Bruce_ ,” Dick said with a tinge of frustration. “I know what a shock this is. But I need you to accept that it’s real. And it’s not what we went out expecting to find, but we also found what we were expecting to find, and we need to deal with all of it.”

What they were expecting to find—oh yes, Spoiler’s ghost. He looked over at where she was standing, and saw her studying him intensely

Their eyes met, and it was as if a key was turned in the lock. The girl, tiny, dark, and according to Stephanie, deadly, started moving towards him. Her movements were cautious and slow.

 _She’s not afraid of me,_ Bruce thought, still holding Jason tight, not wanting to budge. _She’s trying not to spook me._

When the girl reached them, Alfred fell back a few steps. She put her hand on Jason’s shoulder and tried to tug him away from Bruce.

Jason tensed, and screeched violently, as Bruce reflexively snapped “ _Don’t_ ,” and tightened his arms around Jason.

“ _Shh_ ,” the girl said gently. “ _Shh_.” She laid her face against Jason’s, and Bruce could feel Jason start to relax again in his arms.

“We found them together,” Steph said softly. “I think they’ve been squatting together, and sharing food. It seems like he trusts her.”

Bruce loosened his arms minutely, and the girl withdrew her head, and tugged at Jason again, gently. This time, Jason allowed himself to be pulled back slightly.

Apparently, all she’d wanted was to get Jason’s head clear of Bruce’s chest, because as soon as it was, and she could see the emblem on his chest, a delighted smile came over her face. She laid her palm over it, leaning slightly into him and said, clear as a bell, “ _Batman_.” The smile stayed on her face, but then her eyes started to well up, and she wobbled.

If this was real, it was madness to do this, but some instinct drove Bruce to shift Jason to one arm, Jason still clinging to his side, and reach out, with the other, to bring the girl into a gentle embrace. “ _Batman_ ,” she whispered again, in a voice that sounded like some kind of yearning fulfilled. 

He recognized that voice; it was the voice Stephanie had used, the first time she’d been injured fighting by his side, and woken up in his arms. Whoever this girl was, no matter how dangerous Spoiler thought she might be—this was a child who needed saving, Bruce knew it.

“It’s going to be all right,” he told her, softly, and told Jason, too. “You’re here now. We’ll find some way to make it right.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love Oracle Babs being the person who gave Cassandra her name. The annoying downside of sticking with that is that until she does, Cass is, essentially, nameless. (Hot take: David Cain is a monster.) 
> 
> Also: heeeey, look, Bruce got two kids for the price of one! Eh? Eh? :D They even currently match!


End file.
